The Fifth Favor Quotes & Sayings

It came to him then, permeated his disjointed thoughts. Billie was teaching him - him - how to make love. With a jolt of surprise at the crashing irony, Adrian realized he hadn't known how until now. He, the consummate lover, so renown for his sexual skill, so proficient and controlled and practiced, had only played at making love, where Billie ... God. Clearly, it was all she knew. Pretense just wasn't in her spectrum of capabilities. — Shelby Reed

All right," Marcus said, like he was doing me a grave favor. "But take it slow, sister. Any sudden moves and we'll drop you like a used-up ho on the corner of Fifth and Bridger. — Vicki Pettersson

He was a stranger, an alien creature, impossible to reach or understand. And still she wanted to try. "Tell me what you need."
"This," he whispered, watching her lips move against his palm. "Just this." He rose over her, pinning her against the cushions, and stroked her hair with a tenderness that seemed misplaced among the sultry sensations it awakened in her.
"Do your clients pleasure you?" she asked hoarsely, her head tilting and following his fingers as they massaged her neck.
"If that's what they want. You pleasure me, Billie. The sight of you. The sound of your voice. I want to hear it all sorts of ways. Laughing. Whispering. Moaning. Crying out." He caught her mouth in a lush, hungry kiss, and there was nothing sweet or grateful about it this time. Erotic delight arrowed through her with each sleek thrust of his tongue between her lips, a sultry promise of what he would do to her if she let him. — Shelby Reed

"(Big name research firm) says our market will be $50 billion in 2010." Every entrepreneur has a few slides about how the market potential for his segment is tens of billions. It doesn't matter if the product is bar mitzah planning software or 802.11 chip sets. Venture capitalists don't believe this type of forecast because it's the fifth one of this magnitude that they've heard that day. Entrepreneurs would do themselves a favor by simply removing any reference to market size estimates from consulting firms. — Guy Kawasaki

There we go," he said cheerfully, after he'd started up a fire. The two puppets, still huddled in his pockets, woke up when they felt the heat of the flames, and they scampered out of sight, squealing for dear life. Oliver laughed. "I'm not going to set you on fire. Come back here. — Zeinab Alayan

She grabbed her briefcase and took a step toward him. "You don't have a last name?"
"Everyone has a last name." His hand hovered in the air, waiting. He was forcing her to cross the marble floor to meet him, and like a Luna moth drawn to a midnight moon, she drifted toward him.
When she reached him, she took his hand and looked up into his face. "Is it Jones? Smith? Or Brown?"
His lips twitched. "None of the above."
"And you won't tell me?"
"It's not necessary information."
She tilted her head, studying his angular features. "You don't look like an Adrian."
His smile broadened. "Imagine that."
"More like a Carlos, or a Juan, or a Diego."
"Those are Hispanic names."
"Aren't you Hispanic?"
"I'm anything you want me to be. — Shelby Reed

The lucid, rational part of Billie wanted to laugh. Here she was, out in the woods of middle-class suburbia, with a man's fingers inside her panties, inside her, a climax of unimaginable force trembling at the edge of her grasp. And the man who now plied her and played her ... a prostitute. A gigolo. A beloved brother and son and uncle, and a suspect, with too many secrets and too much sexual prowess.
A man she was falling in love with.
The impossibility of it, the crazy, twisted potential swept over her, then ebbed, lost in the surge of unbelievable pleasure that built and built within her like strings drawn too tightly across a fine-tuned instrument. She would die from this, die and scatter into a million fragments and drift like dust on the wind. — Shelby Reed

The mother of goodwill is freewill, if untainted by evil. — Christian Hunt

For example, suppose you are seeking a job as a retail manager. You might bring added value by being fluent in English, Spanish, and French. Being trilingual may not be part of the job description but can be a valuable asset when working with diverse employees and customers who speak Spanish and French. This Value-Added message may tip the scale in your favor. Possibly you are seeking a job as a fifth grade teacher. If you are an expert in computers and computer programming, these skills may not be part of the job description but might be perceived as having high value to an academic institution. If you are an expert electrician, but you are also highly skilled in sales, this added value of contributing to new business development efforts might be the differentiator, the added skill that will help you land a job quickly in tough markets. — Jay A. Block

I'm going to come," he whispered, lips against her ear. "Deep, deep inside you. — Shelby Reed

Asking questions is an art. — Nina George

Here is a new spiritual practice for you: don't take your thoughts too seriously. — Eckhart Tolle

It is the curse of prosperity that it takes work away from us, and shuts that door to hope and health of spirit. — William Dean Howells

He'd performed like a well-oiled automaton last night, blocking out the reality of the woman taking her pleasure beneath him, banishing images of Billie that rushed time and again through his thoughts and threatened the steely control he maintained over his own orgasm. When at last he'd let himself go, one fevered word had pounded through his brain.
Billie. — Shelby Reed

Obviously, the eating or drinking of Fairy foodstuffs constitutes a binding contract to return at least once a year in accordance with seasonal myth cycles." September started. "What? What does that mean?" The Green Wind stroked his neatly pointed beard. "It means: Eat anything you like, precious cherry child! — Catherynne M Valente

To unpathed waters, undreamed shores. — William Shakespeare

I couldn't care less about actors' trailers and food on sets and stuff like that - I just want to act. — Chow Yun-Fat

When someone disowns an idea or even a person, they give up faith in or love for something or someone they used to call their own. — Hayley DiMarco

The People's Bank of China (PBOC) said on its website it was lowering its benchmark, one-year lending rate by 25 basis points to 5.1 percent from May 11. It cut the benchmark deposit rate by the same amount to 2.25 percent. China's economy — Anonymous

I just want to kiss you." He slid his hand up her neck, cupping the side of her face. "Do you want to kiss me? — Aprilynne Pike

I really am planning on living to be 100. People ask, "Why are you so depressed?" I'm actually a very happy person. — Aoife O'Donovan

Make the important interesting. — James Fallows

In the story of the Buddha's life we hear of the temptations of Mara, which are extremely subtle. The first temptation is fear of physical destruction. The last is the seduction by the daughters of Mara. This seduction, the seduction of spiritual materialism, is extremely powerful because it is the seduction of thinking that "I" have achieved something. If we think we have achieved something, that we have "made it," then we have been seduced by Mara's daughters, the seduction of spiritual materialism. — Chogyam Trungpa

I just want, she said when he'd finally broken down her defenses. And so had he. He'd wanted her to desire him, but truthfully, whether she knew it or not, any man's tender arms would do. The woman was wounded and aching for love, and it didn't matter who Adrian was, or that he was the one who held her.
But it had mattered to him. His eyelids slid closed as he envisioned all the pleasure he could have shown her, if she hadn't had the decency to decline. No toys or tricks needed for this one; just deep, primal fucking. Stripping away her inhibitions alone would have been erotic enough to test his endurance. — Shelby Reed

He looked nearly inconspicuous, a handsome man in faded Levi's and tennis shoes. A Yankees baseball cap covered his dark hair, the bill shadowing his features. Casual. Beautiful. A day's growth of beard on his jaw did little to detract from his excruciating attractiveness.
"She's eight months old, but she knows how to flirt," the baby's mother said. "Let go of the nice man's shirt, Gabbi." She dislodged the child's hand, then told Adrian, "I'm sorry. She must like the colors on your T-shirt."
Eight-month-old Gabbi's big blue eyes were fixed on Adrian's face, not on his T-shirt. Billie released a shaky breath. Good God. Even babies weren't immune. — Shelby Reed

When Billie climbed into the taxi, Adrian paid the cab driver, then braced his forearms on the back window. "Billie. Have you forgotten?"
"No." She watched the melting shift of shadows in his eyes, unable to read them. "A favor for a favor. I owe you."
"I'll call you." He leaned in to catch her lips one last time in a soft, lingering kiss. Then he stood back and the taxi rolled out of the drive. Billie took a single backward glance at him standing barefoot, hands buried in his pockets, where she'd left him. God help her. Whatever he wanted, she would gladly give. — Shelby Reed

How old are you, Billie?"
"Thirty-three."
"With such innocent eyes for a cutthroat Illicit reporter."
She studied his expression, found it sincere. "Despite rumors to the contrary, not all of us fit the hard-hitting mold."
"I see that." He reached up and brushed an errant strand of hair from her cheek, a tender gesture that caught her completely off-guard. "And I like it. — Shelby Reed

In her own fumbling way, she'd reminded him he was just a man, fallible, needful, a member of the supremely imperfect human race ... and shamefully undeserving of what she had to offer.
Looking at Billie, touching her, tasting her, had filled him with a wanting fiercer than any he'd known. For the first time, he was faced with something he couldn't truly have, because of what he'd become. — Shelby Reed